Chuck is done
by Stella296
Summary: Set after 3.19 Anyone else sick of the Chuck Bashing? I am. SPOILERS WARNING. If you don't like spoilers, you shouldn't read this. NOT meant to be a Chuck defending story btw .


**Important A/N: So this is based on the Spoiler Clips from 3.18, the events of the last two episodes but also regarding the clips for 3.19.**

**I'm so sick of all the Chuck bashing, that I started to write this. I wrote a similiar story before which is called "Nate is done" and planned to write one like that for every character of the NJBC in time. And right now it feels like the perfect time for Chuck's one. (Btw: I'm not going to defend him for what he did with Jack, but I think he has to be done suffering at some point, hasn't he?)**

**One-Shot for now. Other chapters will follow in time.**

* * *

He lay almost passed out somewhere in the penthouse. At least he guessed that it was the penthouse. He blinked and recognized something. A picture in a shelf. Oh yes. He was in the penthouse. On couch. Because the picture that mocked him from the opposite site was him and Blair.

Back then in summer when everything was okay. When it just were him and Blair. Serena was fooling around with celebrities and Carter Baizen in Europe. Nate was in Europe, too with Vanessa.

So the city belonged only to them. Blair and Chuck, Chuck and Blair.

Now all of this wasn't worth anything. He'd played Blair and she wouldn't forgive him. She even told him that she didn't like that person she became when she was with him.

He laughed out bitterly, took the nearest thing, which was a glass on the table and threw it in the picture's direction. Since he was beyond just 'intoxicated' he missed it by feets.

"Chuck!" a surprised female voice sounded behind him. He recognized her immediately. He could be dead, he'd still her voice out of thousands.

"What?" he snapped. He didn't bother to turn around and look at her.

"What are you doing?" Blair asked annoyed as she walked over to face him.

"What are you doing here?" Chuck hissed in return.

"I'm just here to get the rest of my stuff." Blair shook her head at him.

"So grab it and leave me the hell alone. " Chuck told nonchalant.

"Chuck –" Blair started in a soft voice.

"DIDN'T YOU HEAR ME? GET YOUR TRASH AND THEN GET THE HELL OUT. I got it, Blair. I'm not good enough for you. What was it again? Damaged and twisted? No, sick and twisted. My mistake." he yelled at her.

"I said we both were." Blair defended herself.

"Yeah, because you were with me. Because you became that sick and twisted person from being with me. Rocking bottom, right?" he mocked her.

"I never said that was your fault." Blair got angry.

Chuck looked her in the eyes for the first time in this conversation.

"Which part of 'get your trash and get out!' didn't you get, Blair? Is NYU eating up that much brain cells already?" he asked annoyed.

"Actually, I transferred to Columbia." Blair told him.

"Congrats. Now, I really don't want to repeat it again." Chuck seethed.

"Fine!" Blair snapped before she went to the bedroom and started to open drawers.

Once she was finished, she left the penthouse without another word.

Slowly Chuck's senses came back. He sobered up rapidly when he gave that damn picture on the shelf another look. He got up from the couch, took the picture and went over to the bar.

He took a bottle of Scotch, slammed it against the glass of the picture frame until it shattered. Then he took a piece of paper and wrote something down. Once he was done, he took the phone and called the front desk.

"Tess, I've something here for someone to pick up and deliver to the Waldorf residence."

He placed the broken picture with the paper good visible on the counter before he went to the shower. He was done mourning. This life was too short to pitying himself another minute. He was going to look for something new to hold on to in his life and make the most of it. Chuck Bass was back in life.

* * *

A few minutes later, the elevator door opened.

"Mr. Bass?" one of his young assistants made his way towards the living room.

He spotted the item he was looking for and picked it up. Careful that no splitter of the glass got lost. He read the paper on top of it and frowned.

_**You forgot this.**_

_**Have a nice life, dear.**_

Review please?_**  
**_


End file.
